


A Reunion and a Reckoning

by servantofclio



Series: Aderyn Hawke [9]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games)
Genre: F/M, also oc children, guest appearances by Varric and Vivienne
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-02
Updated: 2016-10-02
Packaged: 2018-08-19 04:32:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8190193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/servantofclio/pseuds/servantofclio
Summary: Fenris catches up to Hawke at Skyhold.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [theherocomplex](https://archiveofourown.org/users/theherocomplex/gifts).



Fenris’s arrival at Skyhold was an inevitability.

Aderyn Hawke may have allowed herself to believe otherwise, when she’d slipped away from their shared home with a single pack, leaving a much-worked-over note behind her. She perhaps hadn’t thought it entirely through, with the Warden’s and Varric’s letters in her pockets, creased and worn from reading and re-reading; the decision to leave had simply come to her with late-night clarity, and it had taken all her will to wait until she could quietly slip away the next morning. She’d certainly _hoped_ otherwise. Corypheus wasn’t Fenris’s problem, after all, nor were the Wardens. If only he stayed quit of the whole situation, then at least the twins would have one parent left to care for them, if the worst came to pass...

It was sound logic, she told herself, as she set her feet to the road. She repeated it to herself every morning, as she traveled further and further south. One person alone, unencumbered, could travel rather quickly, as it turned out, and so she’d arrived at the Inquisition’s new fortress, somehow raw and ancient at once, before she’d expected to.

Varric, obviously surprised to see her, was just as obviously both relieved and worried at once. Isabela, appearing some days later, had been the one to point out that Fenris was undoubtedly only a few days behind her.

Ever since, Hawke had been waiting, counting off the days in her head. She half expected to find Fenris already at Skyhold when she and the Inquisitor’s party made their way back from Crestwood, but there had been no sign of him. The absence made her anxious enough that she’d spent a few days restlessly roving the keep, trying to persuade herself that Varric and Isabela were wrong, and Fenris hadn’t followed her after all.

But when the inevitable moment came, Hawke wasn’t watching the road or the gate. Instead, she was down in the courtyard, talking to Madame de Fer, and it wasn’t Fenris’s voice that she heard, but rather a piercing, equally familiar one, shrieking “ _Mamma!_ ” with absolute joy.

Hawke’s heart froze. The air around her seemed to congeal and slow around her like cold honey, as she turned from her conversation toward Skyhold’s great gate. She took in the sight of the dear, well-known form pelting toward her on short legs, dodging around people close enough to bring words of warning to a mother’s lips.

Hawke opened her arms in greeting instinctively, bending down to meet her son; and there behind him, yes, a flash of familiar white hair over dark traveling clothes, and a second, wriggling four-year-old who shot toward her as soon as she was freed from her father’s arms.

“Mamma!” Devin shouted, hurling himself at her. “You’re here, you’re here!”

“Yes, I am, but darling, you must be more careful with so many people around,” Hawke said, keenly conscious of the jostling crowd, with its horses and wagons that could so easily crush a small body.

“I couldn’t wait any more! Da said you’d be here and you were, and it’s been so long!”

“Mamma!” And there was Eiriel, not far behind her brother. “Mamma, we _missed_ you!”

“I missed you, too, darlings,” Hawke said, gathering them up as best she could. The twins were too big now for her to carry easily, so she dropped to her knees and wrapped one child in each arm. Her arms all but ached with the rightness of it, of these two eager children clinging to her with their small hands and pressing sticky kisses to her cheeks.

“We walked and rode _forever_ ,” Eiriel said. “Da got me a new cloak, look!”

“It looks very nice,” Hawke said, only barely noticing the unfamiliar dark blue garment. She hugged the two of them closer.

“What charming children,” Vivienne said over her head.

“Thank you,” Hawke said, coloring a bit that she’d so abruptly dropped the conversation. To the children, she said, “And have you been good for your father?”

“Eiriel cried,” Devin said.

Eiriel squirmed far enough away from Hawke to stick out her tongue at her brother. “Did not! You kept running off!”

Devin scowled in his turn. “Did not!”

“Oh, let’s not argue right now,” Hawke said.

“Indeed.”

She straightened, slowly, to meet Fenris’s gaze, keeping Eiriel in one arm while Devin clung to her legs and looked curiously around. Part of Hawke quailed, guilty with the thought of her hasty departure. She wanted to run and hide like a child, but she stayed, rooted in place by the weight of the children clinging to her. Fenris’s eyes were cool and inscrutable; even with all the time they’d spent together, she still couldn’t always read past the neutral face he presented to the rest of the world. Certainly not now. Her heart sped up, and a light sweat broke out on the back of her neck as she stood, conscious not only of his scrutiny, but of all the other watching eyes. The Inquisition’s people all around, Varric coming down the steps from the great hall, Lady Vivienne only a few paces away, Seeker Pentaghast approaching from the training ground.

“I hope you had a safe journey,” she found herself saying, inanely. She couldn’t imagine how he’d managed both of the twins alone on the road, all that way, and guilt clogged her throat.

A dark eyebrow twitched. “Quite,” Fenris said.

“But we found you now,” Devin said. “Can we stay, Mamma?”

“You’re staying, too, right, Mamma?” Eiriel said, clinging harder.

The words felt like a blow to the gut. Hawke sucked in a breath, staring at Fenris, who responded with the slightest shake of his head.

Meaning, she supposed, that he hadn’t put the children up to this. Hawke gathered herself enough to reply, “Mamma does have things she needs to do, dear heart.”

“Right,” drawled another voice. “Your mamma can’t stop herself from having things to do.” To Hawke’s shock, her brother loomed out of the crowd behind Fenris. “Isn’t that right, sister?”

“Carver,” she said stupidly.

“Uncle Carver came too!” Eiriel piped up brightly. Hawke wished one of the children had said something a moment earlier.

Carver smirked at her over Fenris’s shoulder. “Someone had to give Fenris a hand with these brats, eh?”

“We were good, you even said so!” Devin protested.

“You minded us most of the time,” Carver allowed. “And how’ve you been, sister?”

There was a glint in his eye that Hawke didn’t like the look of. Chances were she’d have a reckoning with both her husband and her brother before the day was out. “I’m fine,” she said blandly, and then thanked the Maker as Varric rescued her, striding up her with an easy call of: “Well now, if it isn’t the whole family.”

“Uncle Varric!” Devin cried out gleefully, launching himself at Varric.

Matters rapidly devolved into a clamor, as the twins apparently intent on relating every detail of their journey. Fenris, in contrast, answered direct questions only in monosyllables, which made Hawke’s heart sink.

She put on a bright face, though; the Inquisitor was only a few minutes behind Varric, so introductions had to be performed and accommodations arranged, providing ample distraction from the reckoning that awaited her.

But then, Varric contrived to take Carver and the children on a tour of Skyhold, while Fenris carried their bags to Hawke’s room. Hawke had to show him the way, of course, and as the door closed behind them, Hawke found herself alone with Fenris for the first time since she’d left.

“Isabela was here, did Varric tell you?” she found herself saying. The words seemed to rattle out of her mouth unbidden as she hesitated, looking up, down, and around the room, twisting her hands in her skirt. “We had a long talk, it was just like old times. It was so good to see her again—”

“Hawke.”

The one word instantly stilled her tongue and Hawke turned, slowly, her shoulders stiff with tension. She met Fenris’s gaze warily, still not sure how to read his expression — except that he did feel, deeply, the public mask falling away to show a furrow in his brow, and something raw in his gaze.

“You left,” Fenris said, “leaving only a note.”

It was disappointment, Hawke thought, that she read in his eyes, and the thought was nearly unbearable. “I had to go,” she said. She’d had time to think, to rehearse what she might say, but none of words she’d practiced mattered now, with her heart pounding like a wild thing and his eyes on her.

“You _chose_ to go,” he corrected her.

Hawke lifted her chin, owning the truth of it. “I did. It was my responsibility, Fenris—”

“That’s nonsense.”

Her temper sparked. “Will you let me finish?”

His eyes flashed, and his eyebrows rose, but he said, “By all means. Say what you wish, Hawke, and then I shall do the same.”

She swallowed, the temper fading as quickly as it had come. “All right.”

He folded his arms, tilting his head. Hawke glanced toward the cool stone floor to collect herself, gathering her thoughts. “You saw Varric’s letter.”

“I did.”

“Then you know why I had to go. It’s Corypheus behind everything, Fenris. We thought we’d killed him, but we were wrong. I was wrong.” Her fists tightened in the folds of her skirt. “I released him, with my own blood, and he’s going to destroy the world. I had to help. And the business with the Wardens... I thought I could help. Someone had to go to the Inquisition while our friend dodged the Wardens. I knew people both in the Inquisition and in the Wardens, I could be a go-between. I couldn’t sit by and do nothing.”

Running out of words, she stopped and watched Fenris anxiously for any sign of a reaction. He simply listened, his face calm, and when it became clear she had nothing more to say, he said, “And now?”

Hawke blinked, unsure what he meant. “And now, what?”

“Exactly,” he said. “You have accomplished your task, have you not? I saw our Warden friend here. The Inquisitor is sent by Andraste to close the Breach, or so they say. What more is there for you to do?”

“Corypheus is my responsibility.” The words sounded hollow as she said them.

Fenris shook his head, one sharp movement. “No one is responsible for Corypheus’s deeds but himself.”

“I released him—”

“I was there,” Fenris said evenly. “But it was the Wardens who locked him away, and they who coerced your father into renewing those seals. You were tricked into releasing him, and now the Inquisition has assembled an entire army to finish him. I ask again, what more is there for you to do?”

Hawke’s eyes had grown wet. She blinked the tears away, pressing her lips together. Fenris sounded so _reasonable_ , not a breath of the shouting or recriminations she’d expected. Perhaps he had been practicing what he would say, too. Half-heartedly, she said, “I can still help. The Inquisition needs mages.”

“Our children need their mother.”

She couldn’t meet his eyes any more and lowered her head, teeth pressing into her lower lip.

“From what Varric has said, the Inquisition has many mages at its command. I do not doubt your capabilities, Hawke, but the children have needs that no one else can fill. Can you truly say the same of the Inquisition?”

“That’s only—” Hawke’s voice caught. She had to clear her throat to continue. “That seems purest selfishness.”

“Perhaps it is.” He had approached silently while her eyes watered, and now stood close enough that she could smell steel and wool, and feel the ghost of warmth from his skin. “Perhaps I am a selfish man, then, but I remind you even so that our children need you. And I need you.” He lifted one hand, grazing her cheek with his knuckles, the warmth and spark of his presence so dear and familiar, she could have collapsed into his arms on the spot.

“I thought,” she said, and the floor swam beneath a sheen of tears. “I thought I would come back, as soon as I could, and if I were not able — at least they would have you.”

His voice was very soft. “It would not be the same.”

“I know.” Maker knew, she had never been the same herself after she lost her mother, or her father, and she had been a grown woman then. The twins were so young...but Hawke wasn’t sure whether that would make it better or worse. Would they have only faded, fond memories of her? Would the Hawke’s of Varric’s book seem more real to them? Or would they grow up bitter, never forgiving her for leaving them so young? Her fingers curled into fists

Fenris sighed, a weary sound that tore at her heart. “Have you not done enough, Hawke?”

She shook her head, unable to stop the tears spilling from her eyes any longer. “Have I not done enough damage?”

“You have tried to help, again and again, and given of yourself again and again.” His voice grew firmer, although his thumb was gentle where he wiped the tears from her cheek. “Call me selfish if you must, but I do not wish to lose you.”

“I don’t wish to be lost,” she whispered. She could see the shape of the war the Inquisition was waging — against Corypheus, to be sure, but with the Wardens and war-torn Orlais in the middle. Everything seemed larger and more fraught than it had in Kirkwall. As much as she strove to help the Inquisition, bit by bit she had come to fear her part in their war. Thedas had its champion in the Inquisitor; what use was a cast-off Champion, except as sacrifice?

She woke sometimes in a cold sweat, from dreams where the Inquisitor’s mark gleamed in her own palm, or where she faced Corypheus alone, and he wore the Arishok’s face.

“Then come home,” Fenris said in a low voice.

Hawke raised her face, and her mouth found his; the kiss was salty with her own tears, warm with all the longing of their separation. “I will,” she promised fervently. “I will. I... I’ve pledged my help to the Inquisition, but I promise to come home.”

Fenris’s eyebrows quirked, and she saw the shadow in his eyes. They both knew that battle was not always kind. But he simply said, “I shall hold you to that promise.”

For that faith in her word, she would always love him.

Her arms had ached for the weight of her children, but she had missed Fenris as much: the lean and wiry strength of his embrace, the the subtle ridges of his brands under her fingertips, the warmth of his mouth. It was not long before, blushing, she drew him back to the bed she’d been sleeping in alone, so they could tumble down together, murmuring gentler words to each other, so she could feel his weight and the heat of his skin against hers and gasp, head thrown back into the pillows.

She left the room for dinner with a renewed glow in her cheeks. The children, fresh from their tour, clung to her all through dinner, one on either side, chattering endlessly about the mountains and the gardens and the kittens they’d found in the stables. The adults’ conversation washed right over Hawke without her hearing it, though she observed the glint in Carver’s eye from across the table.

After dinner, the twins demanded show Fenris Skyhold’s little garden,and dragged him off ahead while Hawke followed at a more leisurely pace. Carver took his moment, then, slugging Hawke in the shoulder.

She winced, rubbing her arm. Carver never did pull his punches enough. “What was that for?”

“Do you have to ask?” He glared down at her, sideways. “Don’t be an idiot.”

“I’m not,” she protested, and immediately wished she sounded less like a half-grown girl.

“I’m serious,” Carver said, poking her again. “This was a stupid stunt, sister. Don’t go running off and getting yourself killed.”

She looked ahead, where Eiriel was trying to climb the statue in the middle of the garden, while Devin jumped up and down, pointing something out to Fenris. Fenris’s white hair stood out like a beacon among the stone and greenery, while the children’s darker heads bobbed about like butterflies. The thought of leaving them forever nearly made her throat close with dread.

“I won’t,” she said softly.

#

Days later, as they flee the Fade, the Warden calls, “I’ll stay to hold them off!”

Hawke starts to speak, but her remembered promises — to Fenris, to Carver, the silent promise to her children — still her tongue.

She closes her mouth, and stays silent, and flees the Fade with the others.


End file.
